Chapter 32
She wasn’t sure how she’d ended up at Sylvia’s doorstep.
All she knew was that she had to leave the lab before she accidentally nuked the building.
She’d had just enough time to give Bella one cowardly wave, but then she was stalking outside, walking and walking—letting the bright painful sun eviscerate the demons trying to pry her skull open—and then here she was.
Sylvia’s doorstep—ha, as if she owned it—Yasmine rolled her eyes as she looked at the several plaques on the door.
The one mounted above said Castelmar and Maroven.
Below it: Arrest warrants, debt inquiries, credit card payments, place here—with an arrow pointing towards a painfully full garbage bin.
Below that one, a newer plaque, in shiny metal: available on a for-hire basis for enchanting work.
“I’m sorry, she’s a freelancer now?”
Yasmine had let herself in. Of course she had the key, but this was the first time she used it without knocking. If they were having sex, then so be it. Maybe the shock and horror of it would pull her out of the teetering edge of madness she was currently on.
But no such luck. There was no one in the living room, no one in the bathroom. It was all as empty as a pilfered Easter egg.
Yasmine's fingers began to twitch, the demons bashing at the perimeter fence of her subconscious again. She felt something bubbling up under her eyelids.
Goddamnit. She clenched her eyes closed.
Was she really about to lose it on the floor of Sylvia’s apartment? Of all the humiliating locations on God’s green Earth?
She should have picked somewhere else to go.
Somewhere deserted, far away from any infrastructure, where she could avoid bursting someone’s pipes or lurching the roof off the top of the building.
But the stupid lonely part of her took her here.
She simply couldn’t resist the idea of comfort it gave her; Sylvia of all people, comfort—that’s rich.
But she’d told Bella she’d loved her, and Bella hadn’t said anything back.
She’d found a cure for Wallace, and he didn’t want it.
She felt like a child who’d saved up her allowance to buy her mother a gift, and found it thrown in the trash. She’d finally allowed herself to want something, and here she was.
You should have known better.
She took a few measured breaths in and sat her shaking frame down on the couch. One of the creatures she so loved to ignore appeared beside her, stretching its emaciated legs on the cushions, staring at her with deadened eyes and a wide smile.
“Fuck off,” she muttered, grabbing the remote. It didn’t say anything back. So not even her nightmares had the grace for some light conversation. Fine.
She didn’t have to turn the television on—it was already running, even though they clearly weren’t here to watch it. It was so typically Sylvia. She always needed some background noise. She couldn’t digest the horror of ever having a thought.
Yasmine bit at her nail.
Some high horse you’re on.
The last thing she wanted to do now was think.
She grabbed the closest DVD. It was sitting propped up on the couch cushion, partially open. It was a copy of Jaws. She slipped it in the DVD player, and started watching.
It only took five seconds before she felt incredibly stupid.
What are you even doing here? Leave. Go home.
Go home where? The one that was burned down? The one in Albany you blew up because you can’t get a hold of yourself? Go home to who, Bella?
Oh, that hurt. Huh. So this was what being in love was, was it?
Pain all the way down. She was supposed to be calming down.
Processing. That was the therapy-speak Bella had used on her.
Oh, she was processing, alright. She was processing so much that she was starting to see things that weren’t there.
The creature next to her placed an icy hand over hers.
She was going to process until her head blew off.
Her phone buzzed, and she flinched the moment she saw the name on the screen.
Bella: hi
Bella: where did you go?
Oh, fuck.
All her indignation blew out of her lungs. The immature, terrified part of herself wanted to ignore her completely and stuff her head under a pillow. God, she felt fifteen.
The creature next to her limped its skinny fingers towards her phone, reaching to take it away. She swatted it away like it was a naughty sibling.
Yasmine: Hi. I’m sorry about that. I just needed some fresh air before I nuked the lab.
Bella: ah. that’s understandable
God—they were talking like coworkers. I guess that is what we are.
Yasmine: How is Wallace doing?
Bella: the same as he was about twenty minutes ago. snoring like a dog. health-wise, he seems fine, no blockages, but i might order a diagnostic for sleep apnea
Yasmine cursed how easy it was for Bella to make her laugh. It was a mirthless one, but still, a light tug at her stomach.
She felt like a child with a crush. Only it was so much bigger than a crush now, and where it had felt before like grazing her hand over a tide pool, now she was six feet underwater, being drowned by a kraken.
It made her think about what Wallace had said to her.
How her life was just longer and lonelier.
Maybe he was right. Because she’d never felt this—this explosion in her stomach before. Not in a thousand years.
Bella: i have something to tell you
Yasmine’s jaw clenched. Were they really going to do this over text, of all the available communication mediums?
She wished she’d write Yasmine a letter, so at least she could keep it. Or call her on the phone, so she could listen to her voice a little longer while she dumped her—
Bella: rebecca and her terrifying surveillance state/personal militia have seemingly tracked down my family.
i would have bet a quadrillion dollars that they’d already be on a plane home right now taking that contract as far away as possible, but apparently they’re still in the city. like, remarkably close by
Yasmine had been so caught up in herself that she’d nearly forgotten.
Fuck.
No big deal. It was only the most significant mind control device of the 15th century in the hands of sadistic idiots.
Before she could get out another text, Bella was already typing again.
Bella: i know i was keeping a brave face before, but i feel so horrible about all of this. delaying us from watching the CD. everything with wallace. they could have killed him if it wasn’t for rebecca. I dont even know what i would have done if that had happened.
Bella: you’re already shaken up enough mentally after yesterday. you shouldn’t have to deal with any of this anymore. my family is my responsibility, so i’m going to get the contract back for you. before they can leave for the airport.
Um, what?
Yasmine’s blood ran cold, a deep sense of foreboding burrowing in her stomach.
She shook her head several times in disbelief, as if Bella could actually see the gesture.
Yasmine: Stop it, there’s nothing you have to feel guilty for. It’s way too dangerous for you to just march in there alone.
Bella: it'll be fine. it’s not like they’ll kill me.
Is she out of her mind?
Yasmine: You’re being insane. At least let me come with you.
Bella: that’ll just make things worse, trust me. i’ll be in and out.
Yasmine texted her several more times, insisting on getting the location, but Bella had stopped responding. Great, Yasmine’s love declaration had made Bella suicidal. Including Wallace, that made two today—what a joy to have that effect on people!
Thankfully, she didn’t need Bella to tell her. She had a much more reliable resource.
“Yasmine?” Rebecca answered after only two rings. “I’m sorry—Ms. Sokolov.”
“Give me the address, Rebecca.”
Yasmine was already opening her notes app to jot it down. Rebecca usually had the reaction time of a sharpshooter, but this time, she went briefly silent.
“I’m sorry, I tried to stop her. But that girl’s like a pigeon. She was instantly out of my sight,” Rebecca whispered. It was hard to make Rebecca sound exhausted; Bella had evidently succeeded—she was endlessly impressive. “I sent a security detail after her.”
“That’s nice—the address, please, now.”
“Are you positive, Ms. Sokolov?”
“I’m sorry, are you my mother, or do you work for me?”
“I work for you. Which is why I’m doing what you pay me to do—stopping you from making rash decisions.”
Yasmine’s foot stilled on the floor. She felt the floor shake subtly beneath it. Someone must have just arrived in the building.
“Fine, then.” Yasmine paused. “Advise me.”
Rebecca went quiet for another few seconds, then took in a sharp breath. Yasmine could hear the beeping of a monitor behind her. She was probably still by Wallace’s side.
That alone made Yasmine soften, and give Rebecca time to gather her thoughts.
“You’re in a sensitive state right now,” she began. “We both know how bad it can get. So take this all with a grain of salt, because I’ve only just started gathering information. We just intercepted some footage, audio included, from the video cameras…”
“Wait, wait. What video cameras?”
“At the Meridian Tower.”
Yasmine’s eyes widened, her gaze snapping instinctually toward the window. Sylvia’s apartment was farther from the tower than the one she and Bella had stayed at, but she could still see the eyesore standing like a bloated needle on the horizon.
“The Dragomirs are staying there? But isn’t it under construction?”
“I believe Ileana used the contract to enthrall the building owner. They told him he was signing for a package, and, well—they got him to send the construction team home. They’re officially the building’s first and only tenants.”
“Why in the world would they do that? Couldn’t they just enthrall the owner of the Marriott or the Hilton instead? The Meridian has no staff, no beds.”
Rebecca paused. She seemed like she was straining to tell Yasmine something—it was so totally unlike her. “I think a hotel would have been a bit busy for what Ms. Ileana is trying to accomplish. She doesn’t seem to want any attention.”
“That woman doesn’t want attention?”
Rebecca cleared her throat. “I don’t think I’d want an audience either if I was trying to enthrall my own daughters. It’s cult 101, really. Don’t let in any outside information.”
“She’s—” Yasmine’s body went cold. “What?”
“I don’t believe Bella’s sisters have any idea how the contract works,” Rebecca continued quickly.
“They seem to be under the impression that signing it gives you… Sylvia’s weird whatever you call it…
the power of Suggestion? I believe Ileana is planning to make them sign the contract before Bella can tell them it doesn’t work that way. ”
Yasmine felt her stomach bottom out. All her conversations with Bella about the contract suddenly flashed behind her eyelids like a series of bad car crashes. “My mother already laid out the fine print to me years ago, Yasmine. I know everything about it.”
It had made sense at the time, so Yasmine hadn't pressed.
Now, she was starting to see the jagged edges of the trap.
In the modern era, every important vampire would already know how the contract worked—it would be near impossible to get them to sign it by tricking them to hand their signature over like Catrina Maroven had done when she first invented it, which rendered it a very poor world domination instrument.
That little detail had bothered Yasmine this whole time; Ileana seemed smarter than to risk everything over an overhyped artifact that relied completely on voluntary submission.
But that was the thing: she didn’t need every powerful vampire to sign it.
She just needed one.
“Rebecca,” Yasmine choked out. “I don’t think Bella knows how it works, either.”
***
In all her years of having supernatural bone density, Sylvia had only broken a bone once.
It was Aster’s fault. They’d been watching some Jason Bateman movie that wasn’t nearly as funny as Aster thought, and she’d slapped Sylvia’s knee so hard that the cap shattered.
They had to go to a human hospital and wait in a human line. It was horrible.
The second time was apparently right now.
The front door to their apartment lurched open just as Sylvia pushed it, and someone was barreling through.
Sylvia was holding baby Rafael—she’d just gotten comfortable actually holding him for more than twenty minutes before panicking that she was going to drop him somehow—and in that split second she realized she could either choose between Rafael getting knocked around a little, or having the bridge of her nose snapped in two.
Maybe I am a decent mother after all.
Sylvia covered Rafael with both hands just as Yasmine smacked into her like a tugboat. They both groaned. Sylvia saw stars.
“Fuck fuckity fuck,” she cursed. “You just broke my nose, you asshole.”
When those stars faded, she saw something even more alarming. She had to check for a moment that she wasn’t dreaming.
“Wait, pause,” she croaked, blinking as she held her nose. “Are you… crying?”
Yasmine Sokolov, as a rule, did not cry. Sylvia hadn’t seen her do it even once since they met—and they’d endured plenty. She also didn’t visit their home unannounced. She also didn’t have a jacket that said Malibu Barbie on the back. Or hold Sylvia’s hand.
Which she was now doing, totally unaffected by the fact that both of their noses were now running with blood. Rafael began to cry. Oh, Jesus.
“My messages aren’t delivering to Bella’s phone,” Yasmine said coldly, tugging Sylvia frantically toward the stairwell. “They’re not delivering.”
“I’m sorry, is this middle school? I’m sure she’ll get back to you,” Sylvia choked, reeling with whiplash. “She probably just has her data turned off. I know data is a foreign concept to you, but—you just shattered my nose—my child is sobbing—”
As they reached the bottom of the stairs, Yasmine whipped around. Her eyes were as red as the blood dripping down her lip. Sylvia had never, not once, seen them that shade.
It sent fear ripping down her spine.
She never realized just how much she relied on Yasmine to be her measurement of the rightness of the world—if Yasmine wasn’t worried, it probably wasn’t a big deal.
And really, up until then, Yasmine had never been worried.
She could be antsy, annoyed, frustrated, agitated, slightly offput, certainly angry, but never truly, genuinely, desperate.
“They have your mother’s contract, Sylvia. I…” she trailed off. “I need your help.”